


A Night to Remember

by CinderSky



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Character's name is Dovahkiin, Confessions, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-11
Updated: 2017-02-11
Packaged: 2018-09-23 12:35:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9657740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CinderSky/pseuds/CinderSky
Summary: A night of camping and a little waltzing turned into something more, and brought the Dragonborn to appreciate her world.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This work is basically fluff. This genre isn't something I normally write, but if you ever propose or marry Marcurio, he somehow shows a very different side of his character. I felt the need to write this so I could put a tiny bit of that character into words.
> 
> I call my characters Dovahkiin, because strangely I couldn't put another name to them. The Dragonborn in my stories is a person with mysterious past and without memories. Since others recognize him/her as Dovahkiin and that's the only clue he/she had, they took that name to identify themselves and started a new beginning of their life as Dovahkiin/the Dragonborn.
> 
> I hope you enjoy.

“Would you dance for me?”

The Dragonborn watched the flame reflected in Marcurio's amber irises. The colors perfectly matched, tinting more golden hue as those eyes widened in utter disbelief. His eyes were beautiful. They always were. Observing him sitting by a campfire every night they built a camp had become more fascinating than anything she would have done if she was alone.

“Are you _high_?” Marcurio asked, eyebrows knitted.

“Why do you think that?” Dovahkiin couldn't help cracking an amused smile.

“Because you asked me to dance. Five hundred gold coins you paid me didn't include dancing. I am a mercenary, not a clown who would dance to entertain you. Pay a bard or someone else for that.” Marcurio's amber eyes closed shut as he turned his head away, his chin lifted upward.

“Oh, shut up. You complain too much.” Dovahkiin stood up, palms resting on her hips. “I was just suggesting something fun to do, other than getting drunk with mead to pass the night.”

Marcurio swayed his tankard before gulping the content. “I prefer mead.”

“Boring.” Dovahkiin stuck out her tongue.

“Whatever.”

“Perhaps I can practice some Shouting.”

“I'm not in the mood for being blown away, if that's what you're suggesting.” Marcurio dropped his tankard and raised his palms.

Dovahkiin closed her eyes, gathering air in her lungs to prepare a Shout. _“Fus...”_

“I'm warning you. Don't.”

_“Ro...”_

“Fine!” Marcurio stood up, “Dance away!”

Dovahkiin released the rest of the air slowly out of her lips, “ _You_ dance.”

Marcurio rolled his eyes dramatically.

“I'm not asking your eyes to dance. Although that would be a good combination if your body also moves...” Dovahkiin rubbed her chin, smirking in her own fantasy.

“Don't think.” Marcurio heavily sighed, “I... I can't dance. You know that much.”

“No, I don't. Everybody can dance. Whether they look like a desperate duckling depends on the person.” Dovahkiin began swaying her body, stepping irregularly on the grass.

“You look like a drunk woman.” Marcurio commented.

“Do I?” She took a stride forward, clasping Marcurio's arm in her tight grip. “Would you dance with me?” Although the request was sweetly executed, Dovahkiin didn't drop any hint that she would release Marcurio's arm should he refused. And her grip was strong. She was always strong. By day she wielded heavy battleaxe and covered herself from head to toe in steel plated armors. Physically, Marcurio was no match for her. She knew that sometimes she made Marcurio feel vulnerable when she was the one who always protected him from enemy attacks.

Tonight, a little touch of her strength was enough to move him. Dovahkiin had slid both her hands against Marcurio's palms. She slowly took steps back and forth, and was delighted when Marcurio relented and tried to follow her steps. His movements were awkward—a desperate duckling indeed, but still a charming one.

“Be careful not to walk into the fire.” Marcurio warned. He seriously believed Dovahkiin could be too high to not notice where they were waltzing. “There's no music. This makes dancing harder.”

“The cracklings of firewood. The chirping of night birds. The rustling leaves. Our steps. Your voice.” She closed her eyes as gentle wind slapped her cheeks, “I think that's enough music.”

Marcurio fell silent. When Dovahkiin opened her eyes and lifted her gaze, she found him blushing.

Dovahkiin, too, was conscious of how her heart ram inside her rib cage. They had waltzed farther away from the campfire. Ambient moonlight fell over the side Marcurio's face, the amber of his eyes shimmering with brilliance under it. Dovahkiin tightened her fingers around Marcurio's. Her body moved in such a rush that she didn't recognize her own palm had rested against Marcurio's back and pulled him closer to her.

His breath jerked out of him, warmth against her lips. Dovahkiin tilted her head an inch closer to seal their lips against each other. The first touch was subtle and hesitant, because she didn't want to alarm Marcurio, and worse of all, she didn't wish to force her way. When she felt Marcurio's lips remained passive and frozen in their position, she slowly pulled away.

“I'm sorry.” She whispered.

Marcurio's expression edged over the line between embarrassment and confusion.

“I'm sorry.” She said again, this time releasing him completely. “Forget about that. Shall we... go to sleep?” So she could smack her head against the pillow in her tent and wail. She turned on her heels, rushing toward the camp.

“Wait. Wait!” Marcurio shouted behind her. She felt a strong grip clasped over her arm. Dovahkiin stopped on her tracks, cheeks burning from the inside. She jerked her arm away and carefully turned to him, observing every changing line of his expression. Marcurio was confused, that one was obvious. “Wait—I—what—why?” His tongue struggled for words.

“What do you mean, 'why'?” Dovahkiin asked softly.

“Why did you do that?” Marcurio moved closer to her. He was still burning from the neck.

This time, Dovahkiin satisfied herself with her own dramatic eye roll. “Is there any other reason?”

“What?”

“Don't play dumb.” Dovahkiin hissed, “I don't— _kiss_ —my friends.”

“Then who am I to you?” Marcurio's voice was tender, almost hopeful. Dovahkiin dismissed the latter detail she'd just noticed.

“What about _you_ tell me who am I to you?” Dovahkiin suggested, ready to continue her argument if Marcurio thought it was the right time for more bargaining.

“A woman I had a crush on since I-can't-even-remember-when?”

Dovahkiin froze in place, slightly taken aback. Her feet refused to move, like they had been nailed to the grass. “You are...” she muttered, losing a breath, “interested in me?”

“W-why wouldn't I be?” Marcurio shyly swept his gaze away. “You are... amazing. Everything about you is. Plus, you're the Dragonborn. How epic and extraordinary. I'm just a mercenary she paid. I pale in comparison. So I—I just thought, it's impossible. She must have been playing with my feelings.”

Dovahkiin wasn't prepared for Marcurio to express low self-esteem, when what he often did was boasting about how amazing his skill in battle was, or how broad his knowledge was. But then she realized that Marcurio was only being Marcurio—an Imperial mage who blurted everything out in full honesty. He wasn't making stories up. He believed everything he said. Lies never rolled off his tongue. He seemed sassy because he was simply, incredibly honest.

Their journey had told her that. His honesty didn't show up only in words. She'd seen him cry and laugh out of his heart's content. There was no secret between them. He seemed sassy when he was confident, but turned shy and humble when he truly believed otherwise.

“So, you believe because I'm the Dragonborn, I can't love a person who pales in comparison with me.” She frowned, “Well, yes. You're definitely right.”

Marcurio dropped his gaze, wincing.

“And who the hell told you that you pale in comparison with me?” Dovahkiin snarled, “I'll kick their arses to the sky.”

His eyes widened. “Me...?”

“I'll kick your arse to the sky.”

“I hope you won't do that.” Marcurio's tone was almost melodious. Dovahkiin knew she had lifted the mood, but Marcurio still somehow looked like a kicked puppy. “But you haven't answered my question.” His eyes sharpened, the amber in them practically burnt into her eyes. He looked determined.

Dovahkiin formulated an answer, “To me you are a treasure.”

Before she could see him react, she leaned closer to him and whispered, as if someone might be around to hear their little secrets. “You know, a girl's treasure. That weird stuff she sealed in a pretty box and locked it away so nobody would see it. Her personal enjoyment. Something hers alone, and trust me, a girl doesn't want to share her treasure. She would be furious if somebody else even laid eyes on it.” She pulled away and added, “Her treasure might not seem like much to others, but she's blessed with the privilege of discovering something so priceless and any other people couldn't know.”

“So I'm the weird stuff.”

“Yes.”

“Is it weird if I say you're also my weird stuff? Let's call this... a boy's dirty secret?”

She trembled with laughter. Marcurio presented an awkward smile.

“Will you give me a second chance, then?”

“Go ahead.” She shut her eyes. Marcurio leaned close, pressing his lips gently over hers. It sent heat all over her body, accelerating the beats of her heart. His presence and touch left her trembled with desire and newfound hunger. Words suck out of her as she breathed through his parted lips.

After they broke the kiss, her hands fell all over Marcurio, clutching and embracing him like he would disappear the moment she lost touch of him. Marcurio slid his arm around her waist, securing their embrace into place. She could feel the beats behind his chest, hammered against her own.

“I love you.” Marcurio's voice was sweet, and gentle, and honest. “Every part of you.”

She loved him back. She loved every bits and pieces of him, all his flaws and insecurity, his confidence and hidden strength. She loved whatever that made him Marcurio. More than anything, she had hopelessly fallen in love with his very soul and spirit. She was overwhelmed with so much feelings that words couldn't express them.

They passed the night in the same camp, hands loosely tangled. As she felt the warmth of his presence, the steady beating of life surging inside him, she counted her blessings. What a beautiful life she'd lived through, and it was made even more beautiful because Marcurio was also born into the world.

And she could find him among millions, and called him hers.

 


End file.
